


Redeeming You

by LauraRose, xphil98197



Series: The Woman [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRose/pseuds/LauraRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphil98197/pseuds/xphil98197
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life back in London... What will Sherlock come home to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock froze. He wasn't sure if that was all his dreams come true, or his worst nightmare.

They pulled up outside 221B Baker street. John smiled at the pair. "Thank you, Mycroft..."

Sherlock bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Do call before you visit," he snarked, grabbing the bags and racing to the flat.

Inside, sitting in the chair... Was Irene. Her hair as a loose tumble around her head as she dozed, the blanket pulled up around her.

Sherlock ran up the stairs and froze, his coat falling to the floor. He crept closer and laid a kiss on her forehead, before tucking the blanket around her. He checked the heat and went to start a pot of tea, before he noticed his hands were trembling.

Irene shifted and opened her eyes, turning her head slowly as she watched him. "You're here...."

Sherlock brought her a mug and set it down, taking a seat by her feet. "I came right from the airport. Mycroft was considerate enough to send a car to collect us." He leaned his head against her hand. 

Her fingers spread and brushed over his cheek, talking his face in her hands. She kissed him.

Sherlock sighed into the kiss, melting against her in relief. "I'm really glad you are actually here," he said quietly. "I was hoping, but I was afraid."

She made a soft noise and buried her face into his neck. "I was tempted to buy a one way flight to Bali... In fact when you called... I had bought both. London and Bali because I didn't know what to do..."

"I was so scared, I thought you were dead. Bali wouldn't have been so bad, but I thought whoever set fire to the school had left you inside. John told me... well never mind. We're here now."

"What did he say?"

"Not to count on you being here... and I didn't want to hope," Sherlock admitted, unable to meet her gaze. "I didn't know what I would do if it was empty when I got here, probably walk back out the door."

She smiled a little and answered him by tugging him down for a slow slow kiss, her hands coming to rest on his chest.

"I wouldn't have followed you," Sherlock said softly. "I would have let you go. But it might have broken me for good."

"I wasn't sure... It was your phone call that decided..."

"I'm glad you decided to come here. Is there anything I can get for you? We aren't exactly equipped to have a woman live here."

"Technically," she smirked, "I live in the flat downstairs," she mused "So you don't have to worry."

"Oh... Alright. Um..." Sherlock looked panicked. "I don't know how we do this Irene. Do you want to sleep down there alone?"

"Well..." She said slowly. "I googled it. We spend time together when we are not engaged in sexual activities so we get to know each other... And I need space, somewhere to retreat to…”

"True, I just wasn't sure if you are staying there and looking for something else... Or..."

"I am cruel, Sherlock... But I doubt even I could be as cruel as to torment you like that," she said softly.

"This is all new," Sherlock stood and sat on the arm of the chair where he could hold her. "But I'm glad you're here ." he felt her heart with his fingers, traced the beating under her skin.

Irene smiled as she looked down at where he touched her. “I am trying to be here…”

"I know," Sherlock smiled. "I... I didn't think this would ever happen. I'm finding it a little hard to believe."

"I'm going to go unpack," John cleared his throat. "Do you have any requests for dinner?"

Irene said nothing, just leant in to nip Sherlock's shoulder to say what she was having for dessert

John shook his head and climbed the stairs, leaving them to be alone. Sherlock folded himself into Irene's lap and laced his fingers through hers. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"I'm still a bit sore but I've felt worse," she promised.

"Just let me know if I am too heavy," Sherlock said, laying his head on her shoulder. "Mmmm, I can stay like this for quite awhile."

Her fingers hesitated before she stroked his hair gently... as if one would stroke a pet. It was a little awkward 

Sherlock let his eyes close and settled peacefully, the smell of her skin lulling his brain into quiet. He found himself drifting off to sleep, relaxed after the days of stress of wondering if she would be there when he arrived.

Irene petted and stroked his hair lightly until she fell into sleep.

Sherlock didn't wake until John came back down the stairs, and got up gingerly to keep from waking Irene. He slipped off his shoes and went to make more tea, his since gone cold while he slept.  
"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked John quietly.

"You looked like you two were getting along just fine," teased John. "I didn't want to interfere too much..."

"She's staying downstairs apparently, so we don't get on each other's nerves. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do for her, or let her do for herself. What do you do when you are with someone you like?"

"There's no right way to be with someone Sherlock, every person is different."

"You both have things to learn about each other," he said gently and smiled.

"Is there a list I can study, or rules I should know?"

That made John chuckle lightly, and he shook his head. "Sorry..."

"But, how do people keep up?" Sherlock asked, bewildered. 

"They muddle through and they hope for the best..." He said softly.

"That seems doomed to fail," Sherlock sighed in frustration. "I'm no good at this. She's going to get frustrated with me being so emotionally inept. It's not bad enough I was a virgin, I'm also a dunce with emotions."

"Most men are, Sherlock."

"But... I'm not good enough for her," he protested. "She's beautiful, she could have anyone. What the hell is she doing dating someone like me? Maybe Mycroft is right, I'm just setting myself up to fail."

“Maybe because you saw her for what she was… A person rather then someone for sex…”

"But of course she's a person..." Sherlock shook his head. "All these ideas are so confusing. The sex is great, but... not everything."

John clasped him on the back, and although he was teasing, he was genuinely happy for John. How could he not be after everything that that they had been through together. 

"You said people have taken for granted that she is just there for sex," Sherlock mused. "What would be something she would like doing, that no one would have thought of?"

"You mean like a job?"

"No, I mean something special," Sherlock sighed. "Flowers, dinner, what are you supposed to do with a date that she wouldn't have gotten?"

“Dinner… you take her to dinner somewhere nice, and you give a damn about her…” John said.

"But I do... Ok," Sherlock nodded. "I'll ask her when she wakes up. She looked tired though, to have fallen asleep with us here."

John nodded and glanced in at Irene. " She was assaulted a week ago..." He whispered

"I know, and I wish I could have stopped it," Sherlock said, frustrated. He went into the living room and petted her hair softly. He curled up against her on the arm of the chair.

Irene stirred and her eyes opened after a while. “Sherlock…” she sighed and sat up.

"Hello, Irene," he bent and kissed her softly. "I thought you might... There's a new... Ummm..."

She smiled against his mouth, between sweet kisses. "Yes?" She asked and she sounded amused.

"Would you allow me to take you to dinner?" He asked, sighing into the kiss.

Irene smiled into his mouth. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes? If you'd like?" Sherlock smiled. "I'd like to take you to do things that people skip over, because of your work."

Irene was blinking slowly as if she was not sure how she would respond... But a slow smile was creeping across her face. "I would love too..."

"I don't know if you like to dance," Sherlock added. "I can do a few formal steps."

She grinned. "I wouldn't know where to begin with dancing," she said, smiling.

"Part of being a Holmes, along with music lesson, etiquette lesson, horseback riding lessons," Sherlock grimaced. "Anything to make us behave less like children, and more like prized performers."

She smiled ruefully. " And then there is me... You will have to teach me to dance, I'm afraid..."

"You didn't miss much," Sherlock said with a smile. 

"I missed childhood, Sherlock," she replied.

Sherlock swallowed and pulled her close. "I'm sorry, that I only stopped him so late."

"It's not your fault, it never was."

"That doesn't mean I like it. Now, how do you feel about Italian food? Maybe Angelo will even give us a candle on the table."

She smiled up at him. "Italian is good for me," she said brightly.

Sherlock wrapped her in his coat and led her down the stairs, his hair whipping in the wind as the door blew open, revealing his brother.

"I thought I told you to call," he growled. "We were just leaving."

"You may want to wait a minute to hear this," Mycroft said smugly. "Good evening Miss Adler, or should I expect to address you as Mrs. Holmes in the near future?"

Irene smiled, scathing and mocking. "Its lucky you have your brother, you on your own would make the Holmes name an embarrassment. What do you want?"

"I managed to talk to the Palace, and they have decided they have better things to do than pursue you," Mycroft sniffed. "However, do try to keep from beating the royals in the future."

Sherlock stifled a giggle. "The royals should be so lucky."

Irene arched an eyebrow. "Please, Mycroft... We all know you are jealous."

"I assure you, if I had those... proclivities..." Mycroft made a rather distasteful expression. "I wouldn't be indulging them with a female."

"No, because your Detective Inspector brings home his own handcuffs," Sherlock teased.

Irene burst into laughter at that, so hard that it made her ribs hurt and she had to sit down.

"And by the way, when will we hear the happy announcement? Are you taking his name, or is he taking yours?" Sherlock needled mercilessly. "Irene, we don't want to be late."

"I need to change," and with that, she shut the door in Mycroft's smug face.

Sherlock dissolved in giggles, and then trumped back up the stairs.

John was there, rolling his eyes, but laughing. "I hope you two enjoyed that, he's going to make your life miserable for it!" he scolded.

"He wouldn't be the first," Irene said brightly as she slipped in downstairs.

"He's right," Sherlock laughed. "He's going to be furious for ages. Did you really need to change, or are we just avoiding him?"

The moment her private door closed, when Sherlock was inside, she pinned him to the wall and kissed him roughly. Her mouth slanted over his in a rough, vicious kiss and her hand found his wrist, pinning it.

Sherlock moaned into her mouth, going lax in her arms. He had been afraid he would never taste this again, and he was happy to let her claim him.

She caught his other wrist and shoved it above his head, hard.

Sherlock let her take control, not fighting her. "So I suppose you want dinner before dessert," he teased.

"Sod the dinner," she growled as she shoved him back against the bed, hard.

"I don't eat often anyway, I just thought..." Sherlock devoured her.

Between hands and touches, kisses and touches, Irene made love to him slowly until they were both spent.

Sherlock pulled her into his arms and sighed happily. "I could like coming home to this," he said.

Sherlock tucked the blankets around them, Irene safe in his arms. After the heat of Bangkok, London felt cold. "Tell me if there's anything you need?"

"The only thing that springs to mind, Sherlock... Is a submissive... I miss that side of my life and I doubt that you want me searching for others to whip."

"Really?" Sherlock searched her face. "You'd really want me?"

“I wouldn’t be here if I did not,” she said with a smile. 

Sherlock knelt by the bed, his head down. His hair was messy, and there was a purple bite mark on his shoulder. Lipstick was smeared on his neck, and there were nail marks down his back.  
"I'd be honoured to be your submissive, Miss Adler."

Her hand reached out and carded through his hair lightly. "Only sometimes when I need it..." She cooed.

"Yes, Madam," Sherlock's head went miraculously quiet under her hand, and he went boneless.

"Other times... What are we? Boyfriend and girlfriend seems immature... I'm not sure we yet qualify as partner's..."

"Do we need a label?" Sherlock asked. "I love you. Does it matter?"

"I suppose we will get called many things by many people..." A laughing stock would be one of them.

"Really?" she leant up on her elbows. "How?"

"You could really be Mrs. Holmes," Sherlock blushed. "I mean, if you wanted."

Irene went white and she looked down at herself… naked, lovely… but damaged. “Sherlock… It's not that I don’t want that… It's just a bad idea at the moment…” She said softly.

"I would, you know,"Sherlock said. "It wouldn't have to change anything between us. But our name... it's rather well known, even if it's mostly because of my brother. "They wouldn't dare to make fun of you."

“They would make fun of all of you then,” he said softly, as she sat up. “But… you could take me to dinner…”

"I've been made fun of my whole life, Irene," Sherlock stood and offered her a hand. "I'd be honored to call you my wife. But I'll settle for dinner, for tonight."

She smiled and nodded. "I quite like that... we should get up though..."

Sherlock bent to kiss her. "I think even I could eat after that," he admitted. He started sorting out their clothes and popped his back with a frown. "I think I've quite had enough of planes for awhile."

"You've been running around trying to find me," she said and tilted her head to the side, watching him. "You're not the man I thought you were..."

"Who did you think I was?" Sherlock asked. "Just another client who couldn't get enough?"

"The famous detective... The brother of a politician..." Her lips curled into a smile. "I would have loved to have ripped you apart just to make him suffer, the self righteous bastard."

"Well, I am his brother," Sherlock said. "But we are about as different as you can get. I... apparently I didn't inherit the caring is not an advantage gene." Sherlock knelt to slip on her shoes. 

"What gene did you inherit?" She asked softly.

"My mother's, I think," Sherlock said. "I want to fix things, want people to stop hurting."

"And you and John help find the ones who do the hurting," she mused.

"Someone has to," Sherlock said. He held the door for her, and offered her his arm.

"The police have forensics and smart people too,' she pointed out. "Why do you do what you do?"

"For myself,' Sherlock said. " I'm selfish, I'm the best at what I do. No matter how I tease my brother, his Detective Inspector is a good man. But if I can find killers one body sooner..."

Irene nodded and pressed her mouth to his in a slow, sweet kiss.

"I don't know how you think about the children, there's so many there I saw begging in the streets," Sherlock said. "But for each one you help, to them at least, it's a huge difference."

“I have been thinking about that… I still want to help them…” she said as they walked, her hand on his arm. She was upright, proud. “I have enough savings in a Swiss bank account to buy an army...”

"So are we buying armies now?" Sherlock asked. "Or we can use Mycroft's, and use the money to fund houses here. I rather like the idea of him using the resources of the crown to save children from prostitution, actually." He opened the door of Angelo's, and presented Irene to the owner. "This is my..." he smiled shyly at her. "This is my girlfriend, Irene."

Irene smiled as Angel fussed over them and bid them sit down. It was… nothing like she was used too. She was used to the high life, the fine dining experiences of a high class escort… but there was something strangely novel about this experience.

"It's such an honor to meet you, Miss Irene," Angelo smiled. "I have never had Sherlock bring a date here before. I mean I thought he and John at some point... but never mind. Whatever you like, I will cook it for you personally."

“Him and John… They are more like brothers, so I observe… and very good friends…” she said as she looked at the menu.

"Well, it's good to see him have friends, and especially a girlfriend," Angelo lit the candle on their table. "He's done so much for everyone else, we like the chance to see him happy."

She looked down at Sherlock with a warm smile. "Yes," she said softly. "I think we would all like that."

Sherlock blushed in the candlelight, and hid behind the menu. He did find Irene's hand and squeeze it softly.

Irene smiled softly. " You alright?" She asked in a quietly.

"Yes, I'm just not used to being happy, having people be happy for me," he smiled. "Its... different."

"I am not used to people not referring to me as a whore..." she smiled. "I do understand..." 

"You're not... you can have a whole new life here Irene," he said. "Unless its something you use as an honorary title, that is," he teased. "You are quite good at what you do."

"I never even considered that I could come back to London, Sherlock... I need to create a whole new life..."

"We will figure it out," Sherlock said. He handed her one of the glasses of wine. "To new beginnings, and being happy."

She raised her glass to him, and clinked their glasses together. "To being happy," she purred.

Dinner was good, although Sherlock couldn't say what he ate. He was too busy watching Irene.

Irene ate, cheerfully, smiling and chatting with him. 

"Do you want to go back, or would you like to take dessert and go sit by the river?" Sherlock asked.

“Lets sit by the river,” she said brightly, shivering with delight.

"Angelo, can we get tiramisu to go, and the check?" Sherlock called. They escaped a minute later, Irene wrapped in his coat, and her hand in his. 

Irene walked beside him, hand in hand, and feeling happy. 

Sherlock picked her up and placed her on the stone railing. The night was misty, but there was no rain. It was like being in a private world, the sounds of the traffic blocked out by the water. He fed her a spoon of the dessert, and then licked at her lips.

Irene laughed softly and leant in to kiss him lightly, her mouth moving over his with ease and a languid relaxed motion.

Sherlock kissed her back, and looked at her, like he couldn't believe she was really there. He fed her another spoonful of dessert. "Do you want to go dancing?" he asked shyly.

"I don't... Know how to dance," she said, sounding shy.

"I'm sure I can lead for a couple of dances, if you just follow me," Sherlock said. "Although there is a small dance studio near Baker Street. Maybe we can look into classes."

Irene stood up and offered her hand to him. "Dance with me now?" She said softly.

Sherlock smiled, a soft wondering look. He placed her hands on his, and counted out "one two three four." He did it several times, letting her watch his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

Irene stepped slowly with him. For a woman who could wheeled a whip and not break skin, she was marvellously uncoordinated and stomped on Sherlock’s toes. “Sorry!” she squeaked.

Sherlock laughed, a happy sound. "Oh good, there's something you can't do. I was worried I would be forever bumbling along next to you being so perfect."

Irene grinned ruefully. "No one is perfect, Sherlock. Especially not me..."

"Well next to me," Sherlock mused. He tucked her cold hands into his pockets.  
"I think your pretty okay," she said. "You're smart and sexy... That brain if yours always keeps me guessing."

Sherlock blushed red, and hid his face in her hair. No one had ever complimented him like this before, and he wasn't sure how to take it.

She smiled and tilted his chin to meet her eyes and slowly pressed her mouth to his. It was gentle, it was sweet as her hand cupped his face lightly.

Sherlock returned the gentle kiss, relaxing into her arms. "Can I take you home?" He asked softly.

Irene nodded. "Yes... Please do..."

It was a short walk back to Baker Street. "Should I say goodnight?" Sherlock asked, his arms around her waist.

"Considering we share a doorstep," she smiled. I think I can let you say goodnight," he teased

"Goodnight, Irene," Sherlock brushed her cheek with a kiss. "Sweet dreams, I'll see you for breakfast."

She stole a chaste brief kiss and then unlocked the door.

Sherlock found himself whistling as he climbed the stairs. He picked up his violin and played something soft, rather than the usual cacophony.

“How did your date go?” John asked from the laptop.

"It was... lovely," Sherlock smiled. "Now, what does one make to bring someone breakfast in bed?"

"Tea, for a start," he said with a smile. 

"But food... I don't know how to cook! Do I order in?"  
"You should be able to cook bacon and eggs. I'll help." 

"Is that good enough?" Sherlock fretted. "Shouldn't I get fruit or something?"

John could see that he had to get Sherlock to calm down, he was worrying too much. Raising his phone, he sent a text... A moment later it vibrated an answer. "Sherlock, go back downstairs."

"But I already said goodnight..."

"Now, Sherlock. And do your teeth before you go down there."

Sherlock followed his instructions, head too noisy to protest. By the time he was knocking on Irene's door, he was fretting again.

Irene open the door, and she was naked as the day she was born, her hair tied back into a tail. She pointed at the floor, just at the inside of the door. The command was clear in her expression, she expected to be obeyed.

Sherlock's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He knelt inside the door, head down, and let the tension seep out of his shoulders.

She smiled and closed the door, and locked it from the inside so no one could disturb them. Stopping in front of him, her hands went into Sherlocks hair. "What’s wrong?" she asked quietly. 

"I got... Anxious. I wanted to make you breakfast in the morning, and I realized that nothing I know how to do is good enough for you. John offered to help, but... I wanted to do it myself."

"Take your clothes off, Sherlock," Irene said softly.

"Yes, Miss Adler," Sherlock rose and undressed, and returned gracefully to his knees.

She watched him with a growing hunger in her gaze as she raked her fingers through his hair. "Good boy," a gentle tug, she wanted him on his feet.

Sherlock stood, hands clasped behind his back. Irene's touch was soothing, a break in the loop of his mind's endless running. He kissed her wrist softly and smiled shyly at her, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He wasn't sure in this setting, how welcome it was to be affectionate. "Is that alright, Miss Adler?"

“It's fine,” she soothed as she kissed his hair. “Now… I want you to close your eyes. Your not to open them. Understand?”

"Yes, Miss Adler," Sherlock stretched his neck and relaxed. Her voice soothed him, and let his mind quiet. There was the wood floor under his bare feet, the draft of the door behind him. And then there was the smell of her, no perfume, just her skin.

She watched him sink into submission. Her heart began to pound. "Stand up," she breathed. 

Sherlock nodded, a shiver running down his skin.

Her hand tightened on his scalp. "Up," she ordered.

Sherlock stood, his eyes still closed. He could hear her rapid breaths, and feel her racing pulse in her fingers. This was her area of expertise, but this time she was emotionally invested as well.

Last time, she had been bent in breaking him. This time, she loved him. Her hands were gentle as she touched over his body, let her fingers roam.

Sherlock bent into her touch, naming off the muscles she was touching to keep himself calm. She was gentler than she had been.

"You can hurt me, it's alright. I hope you're not angry with me."

"Why would I be angry?" Her nails dragged over his chest lightly.

"You're being so nice, so understanding, and patient. It's feels... Odd. Like you are holding back."

Her fingers pinched his nipples hard and twisted.

Sherlock yelped, and then bent into the pain with a sigh. It was soothing, a way to turn off the last vestiges of his mind and stop the over analyzing.

“Better?” she purred, not letting up the pressure, as she slowly started to twist her fingers.

"Yes," his voice was drowsy. He fixated on the way she smelled, wanted to bury his face in her hair and curl up against her.

She shoved him to the bed. "Bend over it," she growled.

Sherlock complied, the movement knocking the breath out of him. He kept his eyes shut, hands behind his back, and didn't cushion the fall. Irene made a pleased noise as she approached him from behind, and dragged her nails up his spine. Sherlock mewled against the coverlet, his erection sudden, an immediate response to her against him.

"I want to see you come from pain alone... I can do an awful lot when a person can come from pain alone..." she hummed.

"Yes, Miss Adler," Sherlock managed, rutting against the sheets.

She started slowly, just scratching up and down his spine slowly. Sherlock moaned, arching under her nails. The sharp nails and soft sheets were a distracting contrast. She tortured him slowly with her nails, dragging them over his flesh lightly... Before she brought her palm down on him, hard, with a stinging, vicious slap

"Please, yes," Sherlock moaned. "More, please?"

Her blows rained down on him, silent and rhythmic, heating the skin. Sherlock lost his ability to articulate anything, all he could do was moan. His skin was burning, and he had tears running down his face.

She didn't let up, but one hand vanished. She dragged her nails over the abused skin... And then one slickened finger pushed into him

Sherlock could do nothing but push back against her, a silent beg for more.

"Easy..." She purred.

Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath, stretching his shoulders. His eyes remained closed but they moved rapidly under the lids.

"Breathe..." Her hand went to his back.

Sherlock hummed and took a deep breath, her touch soothing him. Without warning, the finger inside Sherlock curled. Sherlock shouted and pushed back against her. 

"What... more..."

She grinned and pushed her finger back in slowly.

Sherlock took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Irene... Can I?"

She smiled. "Can you what?" She asked as she pumped her fingers.

"Can I open my eyes? I feel... lost."

Her fingers curled against him. "If you want.”

Sherlock blinked his eyes open slowly, her face coming into focus. He took a breath and closed them again. "Thank you," he breathed. "I got... too far in my head."

"While I have a my finger in your ass?" She curled it against his prostate, hard. "Must be losing my touch."

"No! No... I," Sherlock turned his face away with a blush. "I thought about what would have happened if you weren't here when we came home, and I - I'm sorry."

Her nails dragged over his red ass, worrying the skin.

Sherlock let himself drift with the pain, leaning into the pain of her nails on his skin. He took a deep breath, and pushed towards her.

She groaned lightly and pulled her finger out of his ass and shoved him back into the bed hard.

Sherlock gasped, flying back into the cold sheets with a hard bounce. He scrambled for traction with his skittering fingers, trying to keep from panicking.

Sherlock nodded, throat tight. He felt like crying suddenly, the tenderness was something he wasn't used to. It was overwhelming, and he felt tears leak out from under his eyelids.

She could see the emotions and Irene pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly.

Sherlock snuffled against her neck and held on to her. His fingers clung to her, afraid she would turn into a dream and disappear. 

She was out of her depth with this. So far out of her depth and frowned at him. "Sherlock. What's wrong?"

"I just... I don't know?" He shook his head. "I don't usually have to deal with emotions, I just ignore them. And then... they were all there at once."

"What emotions?"

"I'm... scared, happy, terrified, in love, it's all at once," Sherlock confessed. "It's all so much."

She pulled the blanket up around them. "Okay... One at a time. Why scared?"

"I suppose because this is something I know nothing about. Empirical data doesn't apply. I can't research and find a right answer. It is something that just has to happen."

Irene nodded. "I understand. Why happy?"

"I never thought someone would want to be with me, it's like a fairy tale. I assumed it would be John and I chasing criminals until he grew tired of me."

"John loves you like a brother," she said softly and pulled him down to rest on her chest

"I know, but he also wants a family of his own," Sherlock relaxed into her.

"Isn't he gay?"

"He's always brought women around, but everyone assumed we were dating. I don't know, really. You'll have to ask him."

Irene nodded. "I shall do that," her hand curled into his hair lightly, running fingers through it.

Sherlock hummed happily, her touch soothing. He curled closer into her, reaching up to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Feeling better?" She asked after a moment.

"Yes, thank you," he said, surprised. "I'm still learning about this..."

"Ask me anything," she rolled onto her side.

"Well... I suppose... The last thing I would have expected was to see you work with children, but you're so good at it," he said gently. "Why none of your own?"

She smiled weakly. "I had a hysterectomy. I was pretty badly damaged after... My step brother..." She shuddered. "I could never be a mother even if I could conceive."

"Oh Irene, I'm sorry," Sherlock frowned. "I always say the wrong thing." He wrapped his arms around her.

"Could you be a father?" she mused, looking at him? "Would you want to be one?"

"I don't-" Sherlock looked thoughtful. "It was never something I thought about. But I did enjoy the children at the school. They were honest, and intelligent, more than people give them credit for. They just needed a positive place, and someone to teach them, in a way they understand. I suppose I could."

"They had nothing," she said quietly, wistfully. "I.. still want to help them. Some of the stories that I was told, Sherlock... They were harrowing..." She sighed.

"What can I do to help?" Sherlock was in love most with this fiery, determined side of Irene's personality.

Irene shrugged and shook her head. "I have no idea..."

"I did tell you Mycroft can make just about anything happen?" Sherlock said. "We should make a plan. The Holmes name come with connections and money, no reason not to use it."

"First," she hummed, "I have a need for you, Sherlock Holmes," she said as she pushed against him.

"I can," Sherlock pressed back against her. "I can do that."

She turned and met his mouth with a soft, sweet kiss. Her eyes closed and she shivered as she pressed against him gently.

Sherlock tangled his fingers in her hair as their mouths met. He pulled her close and ran his fingers down her back, following the curves of skin.

Irene laughed out loud. "Am I that complicated?" She asked softly.

"Well, people do befuddle me at times" he admitted. "But you do present a unique challenge. I find myself in the unique position of caring about the outcome."

She snorted at that. "Do you now..." She purred.

"Well yes, I want you to stay happy," Sherlock nodded. "I want to worry about making you the perfect breakfast, and what fruit you like. I want to be able to make you... satisfied. I'm aware that you are more experienced than me, but I would like to at least get to the point where I don't need constant pointers."

"That means you need to get to know me," he said softly. "Ask questions... Get things wrong first time..."

"What do YOU like?" Sherlock asked. "I would say you don't get asked that often, if at all."

"It's not a question I get asked often..." She mused. "I like intelligence - I wasn't just playing the Madame when I said that. Brains really are sexy."

"So if I planned a whole day, full of your favorite things? Breakfast in bed, a museum, a play?"

She grinned at him. "That sounds like a lovely day," she said quietly.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Sherlock asked. He twisted a piece of her hair around his finger. "John did say he'd teach me the breakfast basics, before I got overwhelmed."

"I have no plans," she said with a smirk.

"I know my parents have theater tickets this weekend, and Mycroft usually gets a box. I'd love for you to meet them," Sherlock blushed.

She paused at that. "Isn't it too early for that, Sherlock?" She asked quietly.

"Only if you're planning on disappearing," he swallowed. "I've been in love with you for a very long time."

She smiled and pressed her mouth to his. "I don't plan on vanishing... But you need to give me time, Sherlock because this wasn't an option for me for most of my life."

"Of course, anything you need," he kissed her softly. "I didn't think I would have this either," he confessed. "Why would someone as beautiful as you ever want me?"

"Because you're precious to me..." She said quietly.

Sherlock hid his face in her hair, at a loss for words.

She chuckled softly and kissed his hair.

"Our parents are quite ordinary, but they'll like you," Sherlock said quietly. He turned to kiss her. "They assume the best of everyone, just don't let my mother ask about grandchildren. Once she gets started, we'll never hear the end of it."

She snorted at that... But nodded. "Fair enough... You'll have to tell me what to say and what not to say... I'm not exactly the best of British women..." She added.

"They like theatre, and they garden," Sherlock laughed. "They own all the little souvenirs with the Queen on them, and they think Princess Diana dying was a conspiracy. They're just... Normal. But they also despair that Mycroft and I are alone, because they can't exist without each other."

Sherlock studied her thoughtfully. "I'm beginning to understand that." He placed a kiss on her belly.

"You have Mycroft... And he has his detective," and that made her chuckle.

"Ah yes, Greg is quite good for him," Sherlock shook his head. "They think they're subtle. Lie down for me?"

She snuggled up to him and closed her eyes. "Love you..."

"Love you..." Sherlock sighed. He pulled Irene closer to him. "I can't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that."

"And here I was ready to beat you into submission..." She said quietly. "When all you needed really was a hug."

"Well either would have worked..." Sherlock laughed, nuzzling at her.

"What do you prefer? You need to tell me if you need me to get you out of your head. I'm... Bad with social cues.”

"I... I'm still learning myself," Sherlock shook his head. "Social cues escape me entirely. Can I touch you?" He asked thoughtfully.

She nodded. "Please do. You got me all hot under the skin."

Sherlock groaned a little at that , and ran his fingers down her thighs. "Oh god you're wet..." He sucked at her nipples in turn.

She groaned and her hands twisted into his hair lightly as he teased her.

He rubbed his thumb over her clit. "I don't think I'm ever going to get enough of you," he said, sliding his finger into her. 'Do you want to lay down for me?"

She did so, watching him. Wary. Always wary, but there was trust.

He stretched out over her, running his hands down her sides. He kissed his way down her belly, guiding her hands to his hair. He nosed at her sex, a groan of contentment and desire. "Can I taste you?'

"If... That's what you would like..." She said breathlessly, arching against him. Her heart was pounding.

"Please?" He mouthed at her thighs, teasing his tongue against the soft skin. He tugged gently at the curls, teasing at her, finally sucking her clit.

She hissed, arching of the bed. Her fingers tangled into his hair harshly.

Sherlock moaned into her, rutting against her leg, aching hard. He hooked a finger against her g spot and cried out, coming against her thigh.

Sherlock sat up and kissed her, holding her close. He grabbed his discarded shirt from the edge of the bed and wiped them both, and tucked the blankets around them.

"You're wonderful, Irene," he turned off the light. "Sweet dreams, love."

She turned and curled against his chest and pressed a kiss there before closing her eyes to drift off.

Sherlock forced himself not to slip into his mind palace and hide. He watched her sleep and finally drifted off himself, a smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Irene was up before Sherlock was and he would awake to the sound of the shower.

Sherlock opened his eyes, the bed next to him still warm. He sent Irene a text, and went upstairs to get started on breakfast with John. 

John was already in his chair, with a mug of tea.

"Can you still show me how to make eggs?" Sherlock asked politely.

John nodded to the kitchen. He had been out and already brought eggs and bacon and everything they would need for breakfast.

"Thank you, John," Sherlock felt awkward. "I know I'm not very good at the... people... thing. But you did exactly what I needed last night."

He nodded and rose to teach. "What are you after? Eggs Benedict?"

"Whatever you like?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "That sounds complicated. What if I get it wrong?"

"Even you can't get a poached egg too wrong, Sherlock," John said patiently.

"Alright," Sherlock nodded. "Worth a try, then."

He stood and pointed. "Cut two of the muffins in half and toast them..."

"I can do that," Sherlock agreed. "John, do you ever think about leaving? Finding someone to be with? I can't imagine you want to live with me forever."

John paused at that and frowned. "I have girlfriends - until you scare them off, that is." 

"Are you certain girlfriends are what you want?"

He arched an eyebrow at Sherlock. "What?"

"Well you asked if I had a boyfriend when you moved in, and you never stay with anyone for long," Sherlock said hesitantly. "I know I'm not easy to live with. But I'm going to be spending time with Irene, so if there's someone you're seeing, I'd at least like to make sure they won't be murdering you mid-shag."

He snorted at that. "Sherlock. no one is going to murder me, mid shag or not. I'm fine... have fun with her. You like her, it's a pleasure to see."

"She was right, wasn't she?" Sherlock's eyes got wide. "I always miss something. First Harry, and you liking blokes. Who is he? Do I know him? How long?"

"For what I hope is the last time, I am not bloody gay!" he said in an almost explosive voice. "Bloody hell!"

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow and went to turn the muffins again. "I doubt she's wrong," he mumbled under this breath thoughtfully. "It's not Mycroft or Lestrade, who else do you hang out with. Stamford is married with a wife, and you aren't the cheating type..."

"I am going to punch you, Sherlock," John warned. 

"Fine," Sherlock waved him off. "I don't know why you won't tell me. Eggs?"

He snorted. "There is nothing to tell. Get a pan of water and set it to the boil."

"Oh my god, it's not Moriarty is it?" Sherlock spun around and dropped the pan.

"Oh for Christ sakes!" John shouted.

"Now I insist that you tell me, for your own safety," Sherlock look horrified. "Maybe Mycroft will put a guard on you if I ask nicely."

The frying pan dropped as John threw a punch... just as Irene walked in.

"Irene, tell him!" Sherlock insisted loudly. "She told me you are, John."

Irene walked forwards and caught Sherlock’s arm, her gaze blazing and looking at him pointedly.

Sherlock deflated under her grasp. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried that he's decided to be with Moriarty."

"It's you that he has a crush on," But John was already he was walking out, slamming the pan down.

"Oh..." Sherlock sat down with a sigh, deflated. "Well I just fucked that all up."

She smiled and sat beside him. "Yes... but he is in denial. Probably more so because I am here."

"Is there something I should do, go after him?" Sherlock fretted. The beeping of the stove broke into his thoughts. "I have no idea how to finish this," he admitted.

Irene covered his hand. "What are you making?"

"Well, muffins and poached eggs, and I think John got bacon?" Sherlock opened the fridge. "Haven't been back long, so no body parts in the crisper yet."

"Eggs benedict? Get a pan and start frying bacon," she said calmly as she rolled up her sleeves.

Sherlock nodded, a bit taken back. He was only just getting used to Irene being so competent, his fantasies had never stretched beyond bed.

"I underestimated you," he said quietly as he laid the rashers of bacon in the pan. "You don't need me to take care of you at all."

"No one has ever taken care of me," she said quietly, a smile on her face.

"I think I took John for granted," Sherlock said quietly. "Don't let me do the same with you."

"Would you have wanted a relationship with him?"

"I don't think so? I don't know?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "Never thought about being with a man again after Victor."

Irene arched an eyebrow. "Victor?" She asked, sounding curious.

"College roommate, he was the one that introduced me to cocaine."

"Not all men are like him," she said quietly. "John would be good for you, grounding. He would teach you how to be better with people - more then I would be," she said as she laid out their breakfast. Toasted muffins, piled high with bacon, a poached egg on top and topped with hollandaise sauce.

"Are you saying you'd rather I be with John?" Sherlock turned to look at her, puzzled. "Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "I am not saying that at all, I am saying that he would be better than I am, because he is more... normal!"

"Normal?" Sherlock scoffed. "What would I do with that? Certainly not enough to keep my interest." He bit into a rasher of bacon.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Perhaps that's why I fell for you," she said thoughtfully. "You could never become mundane and boring."

Sherlock caught her around the waist. "Neither could you, unless it was a cover story. You need excitement as much as I do."

She grinned wickedly. "Which is why I set my sights on you," she purred.

"I sent Mycroft a message, so we can meet with him this afternoon," Sherlock said. "We can talk to him about getting the children here safely. I'm sure he didn't mention, but he runs the family estate, and the grounds are huge. There's more than enough space for a school."

Irene looked up at him, and swallowed the mouthful of food. "Are you serious?"

"Well he doesn't live there, and neither do our parents," Sherlock nodded. "They like their little cottage, and Mycroft likes his flat in the city. No one in the family would have a reason to object, it's a worthy cause. I did tell you they would like you, Irene."

She smiled but it didn't say anything and it didn't meet her eyes. She didn't believe him, not really. Why should they like her? She was... Nothing.

"You weren't ready to meet my parents, but you've met Mycroft before. I hope that's okay?" Sherlock asked. "What's wrong, Irene?" He took her hand.

"You remember that I worked with, and drew Jim Moriarty away from you? That I still have enemies... and that a lot of aristocratic families would still look at me, and think whore."

"You're assuming my family is any more socially conscious than I am, Irene. Only Mycroft cares, and only when it suits him. It's up to you, how much you want to tell."

She sniffed and went back to her breakfast, still unsure.

"Let me worry about this, Irene," Sherlock said. "Let me prove to you that I'm serious." 

"You don't need to prove anything to me, Sherlock, " she said gently.

"But you don't believe me, and I want you to," Sherlock said. "You're waiting for me to let you down. I know because I've always waited to be let down myself."

She smiled, just a little, and arched an eyebrow, before chuckling. "Foiled, I suppose."

"Besides, we can watch Mycroft look indignant, it's always a good time," Sherlock assured her. "He turns the funniest colors, and mother tells him to take a walk."

She snorted out loud at that and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Do it," she said, smirking.

"Mycroft is picking us up at noon, I just have to get dressed after breakfast," Sherlock bit into the hollandaise with a happy moan. "This is incredible, I need to learn how to do this.

"You did most of it," she said, watching him with a soft gaze. "And hollandaise is best from a jar."

"I still couldn't have done this alone," Sherlock studied her thoughtfully. "I'm finding that there are a lot of things that are better done with another person, even if I can do them alone."

"That's true..." she said nodding. ,"Kate is a good cook, I used to help her out sometimes."

"Do you miss her?" Sherlock asked. "I missed John, but I never thought about sex with him. And sex with Victor, I don't even know if it happened. He says it did. I don't remember."

"You can have friends who you don't want to fuck," he said quietly

"Well yes, I know that," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "But you can still miss her."

"Of course I miss her," she said quietly. "We had a life together..."

"Why don't you see her?" Sherlock asked. "I'm sure she'd be quite helpful running the school, and it gives her the option of a respectable job now that she has a child to look after."

"Because it wouldn't be a good idea," Her voice trailed off into the distance.

"Why?" Sherlock asked softly. "You want her again. Why are you fighting it?"

Her eyes shot to Sherlock, and then she looked down. "Because its abnormal when you are seeing someone."

"I don't think there's anything normal about us, so it probably doesn't matter," Sherlock frowned. "I want you to be happy. And you aren't happy without her."

"And what about you? You just... accept that?"

"I thought Kate was part of the deal when I asked, and you haven't asked me to change anything about myself," Sherlock said. "I don't know how this works Irene, there's no rule book that tells me. As long as you're safe and happy, that's all I need."

She needed Kate, and nodded slowly. "I'll call her... pay a visit..."

"I need to make up with John, I miss him having my back, and I need a case. Been in my head too long. I'll do dishes," Sherlock offered. "I can at least do that."

She smiled at that and nodded. "Let me dry..."

"You need her, you need someone from before," Sherlock said. "We both do. This is all different. I don't think you want to run around crime scenes with me."

She smiled. "At one point..."

"Well I can always use an extra set of eyes, and you're far better with people," Sherlock teased.

She barked out a laughter. "If you say so, darling."

"Well it's true," Sherlock protested. "Poor Greg, I think he's still terrified of me. I don't know why, honestly. He practically lives with my brother, and he's far less of a people person than me. I met him, after Victor, he helped me get clean. He's really a good man, good for Mycroft. He doesn't let himself be manipulated."

"You're probably the smartest person in London, Sherlock," Irene said gently. "Do you really not know how terrifying that is?"

"But, I say everything wrong. I would think that makes it easier for everyone."

She shook her head, her lips curling into a smile. "No, darling..."

"Children like me at least, none of those stupid social rules," Sherlock smiled. "What should I wear to annoy Mycroft?"

"How about a sheet?" She suggested, and Irene did not do innocent well. "I could do the same... but we might offend your parents."

"Sadly, it's already been done," Sherlock smirked. "Offending my parents is hard to do, they might ask if you're artistic."

She arched an eyebrow and snorted. "I probably shouldn't answer that one," she replied, again, failing at doing innocent.

"The odder people are, they ask why. It's horribly embarrassing. They really do want to know too," Sherlock laughed. "You should have seen mum asking a goth girl about her makeup, and when tans stopped being popular. Then she asked if she would look good pale. She still sends mum a Christmas card."

She snorted. "It's not quite as bad as trying to explain that I used to whip people for a living," she replied.

"She'd probably ask you to teach her," Sherlock smiled. "Probably normal clothes, I think I'm out of clean sheets worthy of Mycroft's presence.

Irene laughed softly and smiled, eyes closing. "If you say so."

"Besides, I want to look respectable being seen with you," Sherlock smiled. "You don't want to look like you are wandering around London with a madman, you can leave that to John."

"You spent the time in Asia following around one of the most infamous madams," she chuckled.

"Well here you can be whoever you choose," Sherlock kissed her. "That's up to you, I was crazy about you then, and I am now as well. It doesn't matter to me."

She smiled at that. "As long as you don't change..." she said quietly.

"No fear of that," Sherlock frowned. "I tried, and was miserable."

"And you’re happy now?" She said quietly.

"I am, as happy as I've ever been," Sherlock laughed. "I don't do normal well, so this is perfect." He went to his bedroom and returned dressed. "Do you need to change or anything?"

She smiled and nodded. "Fifteen minutes,"She said and slid out and down stairs.

Sherlock stacked the dry dishes in the cupboard, bemused at the mundaneness of the household chore, something he usually left to John or Mrs. Hudson.

Fifteen minutes later, Irene was the front door, dressed to go, her eyes bright with excitement.

Sherlock stood, a bemused expression on his face. "You look lovely. Mycroft sent us a car." He held the door for her and tucked his coat around her.  
The driver came around and opened the door, and Sherlock handed her in to Mycroft.

Irene sat down across from Mycroft and her face curled into a predatory smile. "Hello Mycroft," she purred, sounding smug. 

"Hello, Miss Adler," when Mycroft was uncomfortable, he fell back on his manners. "Sherlock tells me you ran a school in Thailand, and wish to do the same here. I must say, I would have thought that too calm for you. But it would be good to see the old house used again, it's been empty far too long."

"Better than my life of crime," she sighed and her lips curled.

"Sherlock said our parents would love you, I dare say he's right. If Mother asks though, she's not known for her tact in questions," Mycroft sighed. "You don't have to hide, but don't feel obligated to answer either, she's a bit nosy."

Irene inclined her head. "I am used to hiding what I am to some and flaunting it to others."

"Whatever you're comfortable with," Mycroft said. "She'll be thrilled Sherlock found someone. And if she asks you to teach her to use a riding crop, make her promise not to use it on Da first. She's been begging Sherlock ever since that fifty shades nonsense came out."

Irene turned her head to Sherlock. "You have a riding crop? The one that I gave you?"

"It's on the mantle, you'd think he's in love with-" Mycroft's eyes got wide. "I see. Well, yes. He's kept it."

Irene positively beamed at Sherlock. "I didn't think you would keep it," she said quietly.

"Of course I did," Sherlock said softly. "I brought it to Thailand, didn't I? As soon as I unpacked at home, it went right back to being on the mantle. It gives me some perspective. The skull tells me there is reason, but then the crop reminds me that there can be more, if I allow it."

"It was my first, you know," she said quietly. "When I started this work... that crop became my first, and always was my favourite... you gave me a first... I... I wanted to return the favor...

"Oh!" Sherlock pulled her in for a kiss, much to Mycroft's dismay. "Thank you," he said softly.

"What for?" she replied with a smirk.

"For sharing something with me," Sherlock sat up at Mycroft's throat clearing. "We're here, just don't let Mum adopt you before I marry you."

Irene snorted at that. "I think your brother would have me shot."

"She's already invited Gregory to Christmas," Mycroft sighed. "Now if only someone would take over going to the theatre with them."

"No," she said sharply.

"I didn't think so," Mycroft sighed. "Wishful thinking. At least Gregory goes antique shopping with her."

"You would not like me out in the evening... so shall we go and meet her?"

"Yes," Mycroft opened the car to where Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were waiting.

"Mum, Da, this is Irene," Sherlock introduced.

"She's as pretty as a picture Sherlock, I do hope you're being nice to her. None of those mean deductions you use on your brother."

"He tries," she said with a smile.

"He looks happy, you're good for him," Sherlock's dad added. "And he looks like he's even eaten this month. Now tell us about this school of yours, Miss Irene."

They all went inside and Irene started to talk about what she did for the children.

"This is really remarkable, that's such a significant change for these children," Mr. Holmes said, guiding Irene by the elbow. "We'd love to see the old house in use again. Is there anything we can do to help?"

"I have no clue... a tour of the house, perhaps?"

Mr. Holmes showed her around, while Mrs. Holmes interrogated Mycroft about when Greg was coming to dinner. 

"It all depends on his work, he's a Detective Inspector," Mycroft sighed. "But I'll let him know he's invited."

"Oh no need, I texted him," Mrs. Holmes said. "He gave me his number."

Irene snorted and rolled her eyes at Mycroft.

"Just wait until she starts inviting you round for tea," he whispered as Mrs. Holmes turned her back.

"Are you and Sherlock free Sunday, Irene? We're having roast. And yes Mycroft, we all know you'll have some excuse. I'm sure Greg will come without you," Mr. Holmes winked.

Irene laughed softly. "At the moment I have very little to do and am basically living off Sherlock good graces. I'd love too. "

"I wish you wouldn't put it like that," Sherlock frowned. "She's living down in C. Bit of space while I adjust to being a person."

"Likewise," she said with a smile.

"Is this enough space, Irene?" Mrs. Holmes asked. "There's certainly enough room on the property if you need additional buildings, and we can think about whatever the children might need recreation wise. Are you going to try to bring the mothers here as well?"

"I don't know..." she looked at Mycroft. "Legally, do I have grounds to do that?"

"I think something could be arranged," Mycroft looked thoughtful. "What sort of jobs could they do? We'd hope for something different if they came here of course."

"It would require some training and a great deal of protection," she fixed Mycroft with a hard, withering glare. "We both know that there are those who would take advantage of them. '

 

"Well that's easy enough, I just don't think if you want a career change it would be wise for you to be importing prostitutes," Mycroft said softly.

Irene arched a cold eye brow at him, a challenge... a dare.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock smacked him. "Don't speak to Irene like that. No one said she was looking for a career change, she can do as she damn well pleases."

Irene put a hand lightly on Sherlock's arm. "Back down... allow me," and she fixed a frosty gaze on Mycroft. "Something you want to say to me?"

"We all know this isn't permanent, that you're going to go back to whatever it is you do and break his heart," Mycroft sighed. "He believes you've changed. I, however, am a bit more realistic. I would hope this project would give you something to do with your time and keep you out of trouble."

Her fist balled, and she swung and her fist connected to his jaw, hard.

"Hit him again," Sherlock growled savagely. "I'll hold him for you."

"Mycroft!" Mrs. Holmes yelled. "What are you bloody doing?"

Irene turned and walked out the house, and blinked away furious tears, as she went outside to calm down.

"What did you say to her, Mycroft?" Mr. Holmes demanded.

"I reminded her what she is," Mycroft said coldly.

Sherlock ran out after her. "Irene, don't listen to him, please? He's a idiot. I'm so sorry," he caught her by the waist.

"I'm fine, Sherlock," she said.

"What she is? What business is it of yours?" Sherlock spun around in a rage. "How dare you! At this rate you won't be invited to the wedding," he seethed. "In fact, don't let me lay eyes on you again."


End file.
